by Rose Garcia
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
My head pounded, my eyes hurt, and my tired body ached as we drove to Galveston. And my mind—it flooded with worries, doubts, and regrets. I didn’t know if I could kill Tavion. Would I be strong enough? Would Farrell’s plan work? And what about Fleet and what he had said about Farrell? I wanted to trust Farrell, but something didn’t feel right. I sensed he was keeping something from me.
And then I kept thinking of the shock and confusion on Trent’s face when I handed him his sweatshirt and told him we should stop hanging out. He would never know that I didn’t mean it. Besides, if I had told him the truth, what good would it have done if I was going to die anyway? That would only make things worse.
Death… I needed to stop thinking about dying. If I had any chance of winning, I needed to change my thoughts, no matter how hard.
I clutched the bloodstone cross that hung around my neck. If it couldn’t help me defeat Tavion, then maybe it served another purpose. When Trent’s grandmother gave it to me, she said to have faith and be strong. Abigail had said the same thing when she had touched my cross at Christmas Eve mass. But what about the fact that Abigail held it when she died and then gave it to Trent’s grandfather? Did it mean anything? Or maybe the cross served as a reminder to believe in myself and not give up?
"Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking?" Farrell asked.
"No," I said. "I don’t."
I criss-crossed my arms over my stomach, angled my body towards the car door, and stared out the window at the full moon that filled the sky. The last thing I wanted to do was talk.
The busy Houston traffic and bright lights fade to a quiet road surrounded by fields. Even the stars popped out now that we were out of the big city. After about an hour, we arrived in Galveston. The town was small, flat, and quiet. The roads were empty. My stomach twisted so tight I needed to go to the bathroom. I spotted an open gas station.
"Hey, can you pull over up there?"
Farrell rolled into a parking spot on the side of the station away from the street.
"I’ll be right back," I muttered.
He opened his door, hopped out, and met me on my side of the car. "I’m coming with you."
The serious look on his face told me he wouldn’t listen to my objections. "Fine," I said.
The bathroom reeked like dirt and piss, the white walls covered in graffiti. My stomach heaved, and I barely made it to the stall in time to barf out what little food I had inside me. After my stomach emptied, it spasmed and lurched for a while trying to find more to push out, but there was nothing left.
I grabbed some toilet paper, wiped my mouth, stepped out of the stall, and saw Colleen—the Transhuman disguised as my homeroom teacher, a Pure who was on my side. I dropped my tissue. How did she get here?
"Ms. Ryken, I mean, um, Colleen, I didn’t hear you come in."
She wore the same outfit she always had on. Black pants, tall black boots, a long black jacket with a white camisole. But she didn’t have the white staff I had seen her hold the night that Farrell, Trent, and I transported out of the red desert and into my den at home.
"I didn’t want to startle you," she explained.
Her gaze zeroed in on my cross. My hand covered my necklace, and I backed away a little. "So…when you left you said you were going to find my mom and dad. Did you find them? Are they okay?"
She stepped closer to me. "Dominique, may I see your cross?"
My heart raced. Why did she want to see my cross? I continued backing away, my mind shouting for Farrell. In a flash, he burst through the door. Colleen raised her hand. Gray mist shot out at Farrell. He blasted through the wall, out of the bathroom, and into the parking lot. He landed with a thud, smoke rising from his body.
She lowered her hand, looked at me, tilted her head, and smiled. Her body blurred into a misty haze, turned into Veronica, Jan, Abigail and then Julian Huxley before taking on the shape of Fleet. "Did you know that Trackers can change their appearance? It’s one of our special talents. Pretty neat, huh?"
Farrell remained motionless on the pavement outside. The daggers were still in the car. It was just Fleet, and me and I was defenseless.
"Dominique, I promise I won’t hurt you," Fleet said. "All I want is your cross, and then I’ll let you and your Walker continue on to the beach for your big surrender."
I wrapped my hand around my cross. I needed to stall Fleet, to give Farrell time to recover from the blast. Or maybe the cops would show up. Either way, I needed time.
"Farrell wouldn’t tell me who you are," I blurted out. Fleet froze in place. "And I want to know. Will you tell me?"
He ran his fingers through his dark hair. Just like Farrell…and then it hit me. The way he tilted his head to the side, ran his fingers through his hair, the tall and slender build. I gasped. "You and Farrell are—"
"Brothers," Farrell said from the blasted opening of the brick bathroom wall. His clothes were singed, his face smeared with ash. He gathered up a ball of white energy and held it in his hand. "Back away, Tracker."
Fleet put his hands up and walked away from me. Police sirens sounded in the distance. "Dominique," Farrell said. "Walk over to me."
"You’re not gonna win, Walker. You never have," Fleet said.
Farrell held my hand as I climbed out of the blasted opening and over crumbled brick. He shoved the car keys in my hand. "Start the car," he whispered.
I ran to the car and fired up the engine. Farrell backed away from the gas station, eyes on Fleet, his aura at the ready. I could see Fleet talking to Farrell, but Farrell wasn’t responding. When Farrell got to the car, he hurled his energy at Fleet. It shot out like a lightning bolt.
"Drive! Now!" Farrell called out as he hopped in.
I slammed the car in reverse and tore out of there. My heart beat wildly and a wave of terror hit me. Farrell had just attacked his own brother.
"What the hell, Farrell! Why didn’t you tell me who he was?" I slammed my hands against the steering wheel. "You should’ve told me!"
"Turn here," he said. His jaw clenched, his hands curled up into fists at his lap, his white mist still pulsing around his fingers.
"Farrell! You just tried to kill your brother!"
"Fleet stopped being my brother the minute he picked the wrong side," Farrell said. "Now he is just a Tracker, nothing more."
The dark road commanded my attention, so for now I laid off the questions. We drove down a street that ran parallel to a vast darkness—the ocean. The full moon overhead illuminated a portion of the choppy waves, but everything to the right and left was black. Not even the full moon could light up the ocean, it was that massive.
We drove until we got far enough from civilization that the only lights on the road were ours. Farrell directed me to an empty parking lot adjacent to white beach dunes. After parking, he grabbed the box of daggers from the back seat, got out of the car, and started walking to a narrow path that led up and over the dunes. Instead of following him, I leaned against the car and crossed my arms.
"I’m not coming," I called out. The cold and powerful wind whipped across my face, forcing me to inhale the salty air. "I’m not taking another step until you tell me everything. And if you don’t, I’m not gonna fight. I’m just gonna let Tavion take me."
Farrell walked back to me, studied my face, and lowered his shoulders. "Okay. I’ll tell you everything. But first let me show you something."
We walked over the dunes and to the beach. My boots sank into the soft sand. As we neared the surf, the sand became more compact and crunched with each step. I took in the scene in front of me. The enormity of the sight took my breath away. The roaring surf filled my ears while white capped waves rushed to the shore. Sprays of saltwater sprinkled my face. The large circular moon cast a soft white glow straight down the middle of the enormous and wild Gulf of Mexico, the gateway to the Atlantic Ocean.
Back home the Elk Rapids Beach would be partially frozen, still and quiet. Here it was wil
d and raw—just like my emotions and my life these past few months. The gulf reminded me of Farrell—so calm and peaceful at times, and at others so strong and fierce.
"Amazing, isn’t it?" Farrell said.
"Yeah, it’s…incredible."
He opened the box and handed me the daggers. Shivers ran down my spine. I couldn’t tell if they were from the cool metal or my fear. I put the daggers in my boots and then spotted a white feather sticking out of the sand right by me. I took it. As soon as I did, the violent ocean waves stilled, the wind stopped, and the beach transformed from Galveston to Elk Rapids Beach. Only the moon-filled sky and the stars-littered heaven remained the same.
"Remember I told you to come here when you’re scared?" Farrell asked.
"Yes, I remember. And every time I try to come here, I can’t." My fingers traced the thick and firm shaft of the feather. "At least, not on my own."
Farrell opened his hand. White mist trickled out and formed into a long white feather while mine disappeared. "This feather has always brought you here because I left it for you," he said.
"What do you mean you left it for me?"
"I left it in your memory, so you would have something to hold onto from your past."
I didn’t know what to say, had no idea what he was talking about.
Farrell explained. "I remember it like it was just yesterday, even though it was over a hundred years ago. We were sitting right here, at this very spot, staring out at the bay. It was just me and you and we were saying our goodbyes because we didn’t know if we would ever see each other again, if we would even be alive after facing Tavion." He glanced out at the water and then back at me, waiting for a response but I had none. I was speechless.
"When we got up to leave, you found this feather on the sand." He handed the white feather to me. "You said it was the same color as hope, that it was a sign that we would make it, that we would defeat Tavion and find each other. Well, you were partly right. While we never defeated Tavion, we did find each other, over and over, lifetime after lifetime."
Again, I said nothing.
"But every time we found each other, you remembered less and less." Farrell stroked the white feather that rested on my palm. "Your parents and I hoped that in this life you might remember something, but you didn’t. And then we figured we could use that to our advantage—make all new choices since nothing we had done so far had worked."
My mind raced, my skin tingled, my heart pounded against my chest. Was he telling me that my memory kept diminishing in each life until finally I remembered nothing at all?
"Dominique, say something."
My hands shook. My eyes watered. I couldn’t look at him. "You remember everything? You and my parents? I’m the only one who doesn’t?"
He moved closer to me, but stopped. "Yes."
Fear filled me, followed by betrayal and then anger. I dropped the feather and pounded my fists against his chest. "This whole time I thought I was crazy! And you guys didn’t tell me! How could you do this to me?"
He held my wrists. "We thought it was the best thing. You have to believe me, Dominique. Everything we’ve ever done has been to protect you."
I knew he was telling me the truth, but I couldn’t calm down, I was too pissed. And then the reality of what he said hit me. This whole time I kept thinking that if we knew what had happened in the past, it would help. But they did know, and it wasn’t helping. "In every life, you guys remembered what had happened before, but you still couldn’t save me. Why would this life be any different?"
Farrell didn’t answer.
"Tell me," I said. "I want to know."
"There’s a lot different in this life." He paced the sand. "Remember I said we were all on our ninth life? That all those linked to you have been waging this war now nine times?"
"Yes."
"There are two who are new. Two on their first life."
I remembered when Jan told us our soul lives. I was a nine, Infiniti a one. "Infiniti," I said.
"Yes. And there's one other."
He didn’t have to say it. I knew exactly who he was talking about. "Trent."
He continued to pace. "Yes, Trent."
My body trembled. "Does that mean they can…help?" I grabbed my necklace. "…can this cross help? Did Trent give it to me for a reason?"
"We don’t know. And we’ve run out of time."
I sank to my knees. Was this life, my last life, destined to end like all the others? And what about Infiniti and Trent? Did getting mixed up with me seal their fate somehow?
"Will they be okay? Infiniti and Trent? I mean, I can’t be responsible for anyone else’s death, I just can’t."
"As far as we can tell, they'll be fine." Farrell stared at the sky for a second before kneeling in front of me. "Dominique, we’re running out of time.” He reached out to touch my face but dropped his hand. “There’s something else you need to know."
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying desperately to remain calm. My back stiffened as I braced myself for whatever Farrell was about to say.
"When Fleet said I was breaking the rules, he was right. You see, Walkers are responsible for protection only. We’re not supposed to become involved with our charge." He inched closer to me. Pain etched across his face. "We’re not supposed to form…relationships." He took my hands. "Dominique, in each life we—"
"Fall in love," I muttered.
Everything made sense now. The faded memories of him that bubbled to the surface, the feeling of safety when I was near him—it was because we had been in love not once, but eight times. Shock rippled through me. All the times I thought I had known him were real. It wasn’t just in my head.
"Dominique, I love you." He squeezed my hands. "I’ve always loved you."
Tears trickled down my cheeks. He wiped them away and stared into my eyes. Like magnets, our bodies came together. Our lips touched. A blast of recognition shot through me. My body shuddered. A familiar and passionate longing grew in the pit of my stomach and spread throughout me as I finally remembered my love for him.
He pulled away from me and held my face. "I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner."
Before I could say anything, a crashing sounded in my ears so loud that my ears rang. The calm and peaceful beach faded back to the choppy and violent waves of Galveston.
"It’s time," Farrell said. He got to his feet and helped me up. He stood in front of me, feet planted wide, hands formed into fists. "Be ready."